


Aromatherapy

by orphan_account



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Panic At The Disco
Genre: Community: schmoop_bingo, F/M, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-29
Updated: 2010-06-29
Packaged: 2017-10-11 16:10:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/114209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fucking <em>aromatherapy. </em>Ashlee hasn't talked about anything else in almost two days.  If Pete never has to hear another word about the effects of cinnamon oil on diarrhea, it will be too soon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aromatherapy

**TITLE:** Aromatherapy  
**WORD COUNT:** 1,300-ish  
**RATING:** PG  
**SUMMARY:** Fucking _aromatherapy. _Ashlee hasn't talked about anything else in almost two days. If Pete never has to hear another word about the effects of cinnamon oil on diarrhea, it will be too soon.  
**PAIRING:** Pete/Ashlee (mild Spencer/Brendon pre-slash)  


~

Look, Pete's not, like, a rugged manly tower of testosterone or whatever the fuck, okay? He's not that dude. He spent quite awhile sharing eyeliner with his wife, back before she was his wife, and he still does about half of his non-formal clothes shopping in the Junior Miss department. He's...like. Secure in his masculinity. Or comfortable with his femininity. Or—whatever the term is for a sensitive, socially-conscious dude who thinks gender-stereotyping and heteronormativity are stupid.

But even Pete has his limits.

"Spence," he mutters into his phone, as soon as Ash's back is turned. "You gotta come over, seriously, I need...I need _dude help_, okay?"

"What, exactly, do you mean by 'dude help?'" Spencer asks suspiciously. "I already said I wouldn't make out with you so Ash could watch, right? We're not going back down that road again?"

"No, no, nothing to do with that. Though, remind me to ask Brendon later, okay? But this—it's Jessica, man, she got Ash into this—"

"Pete?" Ashlee's voice is close. _Too _close.

"Fuck." Pete ducks backward into the hallway and out of sight. "She's coming back, just come over, okay?"

He hangs up without waiting for an answer, just as Ashlee reappears around the corner. She's got a bunch of white paper test strips in one hand and what looks like a smallish tool box full of tiny glass bottles in the other, and there is a certain glint in her eye that Pete doesn't care for. She kind of looks like a mad chemist, but the truth is much, much darker.

"Hey," she says, smiling. "I found some more test strips. Come on, I need your nose." She leads the way back to the living room, chatting eagerly all the way. "You know, a bunch of these are supposed to work wonders for insomnia. There are actually recipes, and you can use a nebulizer or even just soak a cloth and put it inside your pillowcase—"

Pete sighs, and throws a longing look at the front door. Fucking _aromatherapy. _Ashlee hasn't talked about anything else in almost two days. If Pete never has to hear another word about the effects of cinnamon oil on diarrhea, it will be too soon.

~

Spencer shows up within half an hour, and brings Brendon with him. Pete is so pathetically grateful to see them that he might actually get a little carried away with the hugs.

"Still not making out with you," says Spencer, after Pete has spent a little too long just clinging like a limpet with his face in Spencer's neck. He can't help himself; Spencer smells like _sweat, _like salt water and _skin, _and after a day spent sniffing every known variety of essential oil in the universe, Pete thinks he might like to stand here sniffing Spencer's neck forever.

Brendon seems mostly entertained when it's his turn. He's even stinkier than Spencer, it's fantastic. Pete breathes in deep, eyes closed.

"Is he...sniffing your neck?" Spencer asks in an undertone.

Brendon laughs. "It's my animal magnetism. Someday, you too will succumb, Spencer Smith. Someday, you too will succumb."

"Yeah, keep holding your breath. Hey, Pete. You...everything cool, dude?"

"Yeah." Pete makes himself pull away from Brendon's neck. "Sorry, yeah. It's just—Ash is on this kick—hey, no, don't go in there!"

It's too late. Spencer has already stepped through the front door, directly into the Great Wall of Smell. Pete cringes, but Spencer just sniffs once and wanders off toward the living room.

"I guess we should go in, too," Pete tells Brendon dejectedly. He'd kind of been hoping they could smuggle him out of here unnoticed.

Brendon grins. "You're weird today. Like, weirder than most days." He steps inside. "Did something—ooh, hey, is that bergamot?"

Pete's jaw drops. "What."

Brendon's already on his way into the living room, kicking off his shoes and sniffing eagerly. "Dude, I love that shit. Hey, Ash, is that bergamot?"

Ashlee, who was already beaming in total delight at the top of Spencer's head while Spencer pokes interestedly around her weird smelly tool box, _lights up _like a fucking Christmas tree. Pete is pretty sure there are actual stars in her eyes when she looks at Brendon. "Yeah, do you like it? I think it's my favorite."

"I _love _bergamot," Brendon says seriously.

From his position in front of the tool box, Spencer says distractedly, "I like ylang ylang better. Do you have any of that? I can't find it."

"Kinky," Brendon tells him, kicking him lightly until he moves over enough that Brendon can poke through the tool box with him. "That's an aphrodisiac, horndog. I'm intrigued."

"It's also for stress, gutterbrain," Spencer says primly. "I have stress. I have _you, _and you are stress."

"_Any _time you'd like to work off some stress," Brendon says suggestively, nudging Spencer with his shoulder. "All you have to do is say the word. Least I can do, happy to help. Hey, tea tree oil!"

Pete is still stuck in the doorway, watching with open horror as his so-called "dude help" for the night settle down happily with a handful of Ashlee's test strips and start sniffing.

"Honey?" Ashlee tilts her head at him. "What're you doing?"

Pete's life is over. He needs new friends. He misses Patrick.

"Nothing," he says glumly, and goes to find Bronx.

~

"You know a lot about aromatherapy," Ashlee is saying happily to Brendon in the kitchen an hour or so later, when Pete comes in to grab another beer.

"Ryan went through a phase," Brendon says with a shrug. "There was a lot of shit about 'centering ourselves' and 'boosting concentration,' and helping us 'harness our creativity.' It didn't really work—mostly we just avoided the bus a lot—but some of them were pretty cool."

Ashlee darts a thoughtful glance at Pete, and Pete hastily ducks back out into the living room before she can start asking any more questions.

~

The night does, eventually, get a little less scent-intensive. Some Halo is played, and also some Ring Around the Rosy with Bronx, and even a little bit of music. There is a little more wine than is probably wise, and a whole lot of shameless flirtation from Brendon, which leads to a whole lot of blushing and eye-rolling from Spencer, which leads to a whole lot of laughing at both of them from Pete and Ashlee. All in all, it's a pretty good night, aromatherapy and all.

By the time Spencer and Brendon have finally taken their leave, clutching tiny bottles of ylang ylang and bergamot respectively, and Bronx has been put to bed and the living room straightened up, Pete has practically forgotten how cranky he was about the whole thing earlier in the day. So when Ash climbs into bed, fresh from the shower and smelling amazing, Pete doesn't think twice about dragging her across the bed and burying his face in her neck.

"Mmmm," he mumbles, still pleasantly buzzed and relaxed from the wine.

Ashlee laughs and slides her arms around him. "A little too much aromatherapy for you today?" she asks, rueful. "I did get a little carried away."

Pete bites her shoulder, and slides his hand up under her shirt to rest flat against her stomach. "S'okay," he says, his words muffled in her hair. "You smell like you now. I like it."

Ashlee grins, and twists in his arms until she can hook her leg up over his hip suggestively. "That's because my soap is vanilla," she says, and waggles her eyebrows. "Vanilla's a sexual stimulant scent, you know."

Pete laughs, and rolls them both over until he's got her underneath him. "See, now this is a test I can actually get behind," he says against her mouth.

"Yeah," Ashlee mumbles back, distracted and happy. "We should test this one a lot." She wraps her legs around Pete's waist, and Pete rolls his hips a little.

"I fucking love aromatherapy," he says seriously, and means it.

~

END

__   
**Aromatherapy**   



End file.
